


Drabble Series

by Wiegenlied



Series: drabbles and prompt fills [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternative Universe - Florists, Alternative Universe - Ritual Sacrifice, Florist Harry, Journalist Harry, Slytherin Harry, chipmunk Harry (he will eat anything Tom makes because he is that good), flustered Tom who doesn't know what crushes are, forest deity Tom/Voldemort, pâtissier Tom, ritual sacrifice Harry (or is he), smitten customer Tom, super villain Tom, there's fanart for most snippets, umm let's see I guess I'll update the tags for each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-17 14:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20622212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiegenlied/pseuds/Wiegenlied
Summary: A variety of AUs and prompts I've received from instagram, discord, and tumblr, combined together into one series with a different storyline each chapter. Who knows? Depending on how they're liked, I may write and doodle more 💕





	1. The Florist and his Admirer

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for you, friends, for giving me the confidence to post my drabbles and sketches to AO3 as well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry's a florist. Tom's madly in love and keep going to buy flowers.
> 
> _Draco snickered as Ron groaned in frustration. "You mean golden boy still hasn't realized anything yet? How dense does one have to be to not understand people don't buy flowers every. single. day??"_
> 
> _Ron only threw the salt shaker at his head in response._

_'Ten minutes to closing,'_ Harry thought to himself as he stretched. It had been a long day, and quite a few people had stopped by to place orders in advance. After all, Valentine's day was just around the corner.

Before Harry could finish wrapping up things behind the counter, the front door chimed as a last minute customer walked in.

Harry couldn't help the smile that immediately brightened his face. "Mr. Riddle!" he called as the man stepped closer. "I thought I'd miss you today," Harry teased. Riddle's eyes glinted, lips lifting slightly _(ever so slightly)_ as he perused the displays.

"Perish the thought, Mr. Potter. I have yet to purchase my flowers for today." He spared Harry another glance, before going back to inspecting the state of the new arrangements Harry had made and continuing, "It would be atrocious manners on my part to ignore the best florist there is to be found in this town, even if he is the newest one."

Harry laughed, knowing that this was the closest Riddle would ever come to giving a compliment. His exhaustion lessened and heart began feeling (curiously) fuller.

"It's odd, you know," Harry said, smiling to himself as he seemed to talk to no one in particular, smiling softly as he fiddled with a few sheets of paper behind the counter. "My day doesn't feel complete anymore until I see your face."

Tom almost dropped the flowers he had picked _(sapphire skies, a new arrangement, the boy still hadn't realized that Tom never came for the flowers, but for the smile of the man who gave them-), _face flushing in an unseemly display of sentiment. He briskly turned back to considering the various array of colourful flora despite the fact he had already chosen his bouquet for the day. 

_'He has no idea what he does to me,'_ Tom thought, cursing his skin and how easily it reddened. _'Not a single clue.'_

_ _


	2. A Pâtissier's Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Baker AU
> 
> _Riddle's eyes flashed. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice dangerously low._
> 
> _Harry cheekily smiled, poking Tom's chest with an impudent finger as he sat down at the table. "Exactly what I said, Tom. You're so busy making new and fancy desserts that you would definitely screw up something as simple as a donut."_
> 
> _Something inside the pâtissier snapped._

Within an hour, it had been prepared. The perfect balance of texture, scent and flavour. The soft dough, enveloped in a flaky exterior, topped with _just_ the right amount of ganache. A hint of spice hidden behind the rich, sweet taste of chocolate, enticing you to take _'just one bite'_ more. Tom stepped back, allowing himself a moment, just the one, to admire his work, before stepping back out of the kitchen towards the boy. "There," he said as he placed the delicacy in front of him. "Witness what a true master of culinary art has called a donut," he ended with a sneer.

Harry, the infuriating, incessantly dim-witted, bright-eyed _(no, focus)_ boy, simply grinned up at Tom. "Why, Tom," he smiled coyly. "Who knew you were that easy to persuade?"

Before Tom could bristle and respond, he hurriedly took a large bite, eyes widening as he made a garbled "ohmagohhh" sound before moaning in delight. His cheeks bulged as he bit into the donut once more, glowing in warm happiness, resembling the chipmunks Tom had seen on television as a child.

"Tom," Harry groaned. "Tom, Tom, _Tom,_ I give up, you were right, you're a genius, how can donuts taste this good?? I swear this is unbelievable." His litany of praises and compliments continued as he cleared the plate. "You should seriously consider selling these, people are really missing out."

Harry turned to Tom before he ate the last donut. "I mean it, though," he said, unexpectedly fierce. "You really are the brightest pâtissier of the age. Your merit comes from your own talent, not from your father."

And what else can Tom do in that moment but pause- something deep inside brightening, glowing, _shifting-_ and smile?


	3. Distractions, distractions, distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom returns back to the dormitories and finds an unexpected surprise waiting for him. 
> 
> _"We need to do something," Lestrange hissed. "This is getting out of hand!"_
> 
> _Mulciber and Dolohov nodded, while Malfoy remained strangely quiet. "So what's the plan?" Dolohov asked, leaning forward in eager excitement._
> 
> _Lestrange's gaze began to stray. "That's. That's what the meeting is for," he said as the rest of the group groaned. "But something needs to be done!"_

Tom had just finished his meeting with Professor Slughorn regarding his research into the medicinal properties of certain... ingredients... when he began his journey back to the Slytherin dormitories. The walk was a peaceful one, allowing Tom the opportunity to ruminate about his newest dilemma- the Potter boy.

_(There must be some way to get through to him. But how? What could it be? The hidden key to-)_

Soon enough, he had reached the portrait which opened swiftly with a murmured word in parseltongue. A quiet hush fell upon all the students in the common room when Tom entered. Conversations stopped, quills paused, gazes fixing upon the Slytherin heir's form before lowering in respect. He allowed himself a moment to sweep his gaze over them all, his snakes _(and what an enticing thought that was),_ before striding towards his rooms.

What he saw upon opening the door made him, quite literally, stop in his tracks.

"Welcome back, Riddle," Potter said, clearly distracted. "Sorry about your shirt, I couldn't find mine. Malfoy went looking for you a while ago, so he'll probably come back any time now."

_'He's wearing my shirt,'_ was all Tom could process.

"Have you seen my glasses?" he continued. He stumbled from one side of the room to the other, Tom's shirt slipping off his slender shoulders. "I've been looking all over for them."

Tom took a moment to breathe. In. Out. Repeat.

Dizzily, heart pounding, face flushing _(why was it flushing?)_ all Tom could say softly, quietly, was, "They're on your head, you fool."

* * *

"My Lord, are you alright?" Abraxas asked, brow furrowed in concern. The Potter boy had left some time ago, leaving Riddle frozen in the entrance. "Your face is- excuse my forwardness, but your face is turning an alarming shade of red."

Riddle slowly raised his hand, covering his mouth as his lips twitched suspiciously. He continued to look out the window, watching the swaying drifts of coral beneath the Black Lake, before lowering his hand. He turned to face Abraxas, at a loss for what had happened and how he was reacting to it.

"He is such a fool," Riddle eventually said in... distress? "He is a complete and utter fool, so why am I feeling this way??"


	4. A legend of old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: fantasy AU
> 
> Harry is selected as this cycle's 'Persephone,' a sacrifice that is offered once every seven years to forest deity Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for you, creatro, snowy, and dani (*´▽`*)♡

"Harry Potter," Dumbledore called. His voice was frayed, old, and broken. He had failed his people once more. "The tribute for this cycle is Harry Potter."

The village froze for all but a moment before bursting into a cacophony of noise. Outraged cries, quiet gasps of relief, and murmured words of condolences blended together. _'Thank goodness it wasn't me,'_ some thought. _'Thank goodness it wasn't my child.'_  
  
Hermione sobbed, clutching Harry's hands in a crushing grip. Ron's gaze widened in horror, icy dread pooling in his lungs.

Harry's heart stuttered once, twice, before he finally caught his breath. He could protect them all, by going willingly. He could doom them all, by running away.

The choice wasn't difficult to make.

* * *

The village had a legend, you see. Every seven years, as the first rays of light would rise over the distant mountains, a great catastrophe would strike the land- in the shape of a typhoon, an immense earthquake, a disastrous drought- that would leave any and all life in ruins. Crops would rot, diseases would run rampant, and fresh water reserves would become poisoned. The people of the land fell into despair, at a loss for what to do. Distraught, a village elder, the wisest of their people, turned to nature itself to find a solution. _'A clearing within the Forbidden Forest,'_ they decided. _'The place where the barrier between realms is most thin.' _

The elder fell to the forest floor, coughing and wheezing as they struggled against the disease, the pain, the thirst._ 'I beseech you,'_ they called out. _'How can I save my people?'_

_'The answer is simple,'_ the forest called back. _'Present me with a soul worthy of all the lives that could be spared.'_

The people became desperate, their anguish fueling their pain. How could they measure the worthiness of a soul? From their character, their talents, their experiences? No one wanted to die, nor could they bring themselves to encourage anyone else to step forward.

_A fair decision,_ they decided. Collecting the names of all those above the age of majority, the village elder picked a person at random. The tribute chosen was then told to walk to the clearing where the forest had first spoken, and the catastrophe would be put to an end.

The village grieved for the member they had lost, but as history has proven, life began anew. Hope, hope was now tangibly felt. They were free!

But seven years later, the catastrophe still took place.

_'This was not our bargain,'_ the elder called out. _'A tribute was offered!'_

_'The answer is simple,'_ the forest called back once more. _'Present me with a soul worthy of all the lives that could be spared.'_

* * *

Preparations were made as the grains of time continued to slip by.

A bath, to clear away impurities. A simple tunic, to show humility. A shroud, to protect the sacrifice.

_A lotus flower, to gift the forest for its kindness._

Glistening tears continued to slip past Hermione's cheeks as she anointed Harry's forehead, the soft skin behind his ears, the pulse points on each wrist. "Harry," Ron whispered, voice rough, cracking, from where he stood guard. "It's time."

Slowly, Harry stood. He had a minute, two at most, before the rules dictated his departure.

_'Alone, before the sky begins to change from black to deep blue, into the forest,' the forest said. 'There, I will await you.'_

Despite everything, Harry's strongest emotion was that of relief. He would protect his people. For their smiles, for their futures, he would volunteer himself every time, in every life, if he could. A bittersweet, melancholic happiness spread through his veins as he turned to face Ron and Hermione. "I'll miss you," Harry whispered fiercely, risking a final embrace with his two closest friends despite the elder's warnings. "Be happy enough for my share, too."

Heart aching, but spirit ablaze, Harry walked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The village had a legend, you see. One that began when the village had, unknowingly, misunderstood what was being asked of them. One that was ended with a boy, a lotus flower, and a millennium of waiting.


	5. Super villain to Super... nope, still villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supervillain AU
> 
> Harry is a journalist for the Daily Prophet, the local newspaper that covers "only the hottest gossip there is to know." Good news is that even though the chief editor, Rita Skeeter, hates him- he is still employed because of his track record for taking the most candid photos of super heroes and villains alike. The bad news? He's the only one to have come close enough to talk to the most notorious of all super villains, Marvolo. 
> 
> _The man arched a perfect brow, looking down at where Harry was tied up. "Again, Harry?"_
> 
> _He shrugged sheepishly in response. "In my defense," Harry began, "I thought they'd give me more information on the Greyback case."_
> 
> _Marvolo, as usual, sighed in response._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble and the art for it inspired the incredible Michiyo to write a fic! [Check it out over here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19686559/chapters/46606552)

"Harry," Hermione called out in exasperation. "Don't you see that you're just walking into a trap?"

Ron nodded emphatically in response. "Think about it, mate. They've called you out, alone. You can't bring any technology with you, you can't get there without them driving you, and- and you can't share the location of your meeting with anyone either!" he ended off on a shout as Harry raced by, hair messy enough to make it seem as though he had just woken up.

Harry had had a passion for journalism ever since he was a child. The chance to do good, to help people, to _bring villains to justice_ was something that set his spirit ablaze. Also, the fact that he didn't have any powers of his own had... limited his career options in the fight for peace. But despite what other people thought, Harry preferred things to be this way. Glory, publicity, and fame weren't the reasons Harry wanted to fight villains- it was to put an end to misery, hopelessness, and fear. As the star writer for the Daily Prophet, known for his ability to capture all the best stories and moments with the help of his camera and pen, he hoped he was coming closer to doing so, one article at a time.

"I need this interview, Ron," Harry said firmly for the fifth time that day. "Rita assigned me to this story, and I'm the only one he's willing to meet. I can't risk Mad-Eye turning me away because I was picky," he groaned. "Rita will make my life hell. Worse than it already is."

Ron and Hermione continued to hover, repeatedly asking Harry to bring one of them with him, to give up the location, to wear a tracker, to do _something._

He rolled his eyes as he continued to get dressed. Sure, Mad-Eye was known for being a little... eccentric, but that wouldn't mean he'd _hurt_ him or anything, right? "I'll be fine, guys," he called out, racing out the door to catch the car that had arrived, courtesy of his interviewee. "I'll be back before you know it."

* * *

Needless to say, Harry was not fine, nor was he "back before they knew it."

It had started out innocent enough. The usual blindfold for the ride, pleasantries upon meeting the hero, opening questions and answers... but about ten minutes in, Harry's voice began slurring, eyes becoming unfocused as he mumbled out a distracted, "waz happenin' to me?" before falling unconscious.

Gas. Typical.

Finding himself in a locked room thus didn't come as a surprise. The handcuffs, however, did. 

He had been captured (by a hero, no less)- the question was, why? 

He paced within the small room, trying to understand the hero's reasoning. Perhaps they were under attack and Harry was at risk? But no, he wouldn't have been _gassed_ if that were the case. Maybe he had offended Mad-Eye in some way? The sporadic shouts of "CONSTANT VIGILANCE" would make anyone startle though, surely the hero hadn't held that against Harry. Frustrated, he sat down, at a loss for what to do.

His exceedingly frantic brainstorming came to an end when the door to his cell blasted open, allowing the villain behind it to casually glide in. His outfit of deep emerald appeared almost pitch black in the darkness, his eyes glinting in the low light. His rescuer (?) stared down at where Harry sat on the floor, the slightest curl of his lips the only sign that gave away his amusement.

"Harry Potter," he laughed. "When I received an invitation regarding a certain... asset of mine that had been taken, I had not expected it to be my favourite journalist."

Harry winced. Like it wasn't enough that he was being offered interviews (read: stalked) for being the first person that notorious super villain Marvolo had been photographed and interviewed by- now he had to deal with being held hostage and... and being used as blackmail material for the villain, too?

"Well," he began. "This is just as much of a surprise for me as it is for you."

Scanning Harry's form for a moment, Marvolo's gaze paused on the handcuffs, a strange look entering his eyes. Harry couldn't tell if he was furious or- or something else.

"Marvolo? A little help?" Harry eventually said, pulling the handcuffs as far apart as he could to show the villain just how... far apart he couldn't move them. "Seeing as you're here to help me escape, hopefully? Um, my hands are starting to ache a bit."

The mysterious expression was replaced with the villain's usual mask of cool detachment. Marvolo smiled, breaking the facade for a moment. "Why, Harry, I don't see why I should," he said. "You make quite the stunning picture."

Harry groaned in response. "Seriously, Marvolo, this is no time for jokes!"

* * *

"As entertaining as this has been," Marvolo hummed, "I believe it's time I take my leave."

He stepped forward, gathering Harry into his arms despite the boy's flustered protests- 

_("I can walk, Marvolo!!! It's my arms that are chained, my legs are perfectly fine!")_

-because, obviously, carrying the boy was the most efficient method. Obviously.

Mad-eye growled, launching a new assault, thoroughly incinerating the wall behind the villain as he dodged. Marvolo stepped back and slid from one shadow into the next, teleporting to the opposite side of the collapsing room. "Where do you think you're going? I haven't finished with you yet!"

Marvolo laughed, floating upwards as he began his ascent.

"Why, Moody," he grinned. "I'm taking my prize with me."

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, kudos and comments are very much appreciated (*´︶`*)♡


End file.
